Sam never once laughed at a pregnant lady. Not that he’d been around many, but he’d always been suitably sympathetic to their plights. Sympathy and experience were two different things.
Pregnancy wasn’t all that bad, despite what he told Dean. Sure his back ached on occasion, but it did that before the baby. Too many days spent leaping in the Impala, too many nights spent being tossed into graves or out of windows: a guy got all sorts of aches and pains from that.
The morning sickness was nothing compared to demon blood withdrawals. His constantly shifting center of gravity wasn’t as life threatening as it might have once been, and was gradual enough that he acclimatized to it. The change wasn’t as drastic as when he hit his growth spurt and had to relearn all his fighting skills, but it was close enough.
But fat? Sam had never been fat before. He had been chubby, sure. Sammy was a chubby twelve-year-old with both envy and admiration for his big brother and a brewing storm of hurt and sometimes hate for his father. It was not a great period of his life, but he hadn’t been fat.
Of course, Sam knew that he wasn’t ‘fat.’ All the pregnancy books and shows told him that. And Dean wouldn’t care if he was fat. Dean would still dote on him and coddle him and coddle their child and be obsessive and protective – and that was before his newfound dragon tendencies kicked in.
But Sam’s baby belly made him feel fat. The stretch marks had already started in. His perfectly defined abdomen had given way to make room for the Winchester bulk and any wings that baby Winchester might feel like growing.
It made Sam feel not so sexy, and he was surprised at how much he wanted to feel that way when he had never cared that much before. Sure, he’d heard people make snide comments about his good looks. He knew that his whole family had lucked out on that particular genetics lottery. Sometimes he had even thought that being good looking was a consolation prize for being genetically fucked over for their roles in the destiny of the world.
In any case, Sam didn’t feel desirable. He was also hormonal. The combination of the two was the only reason he had to explain why he was standing in front of a mirror clad in nothing but a pair of worn boxers, holding a dark, satiny green pair of panties up to his crotch.
The lingerie had been easy enough to find in Dean’s dresser. They’d been neatly folded in the top drawer, displayed in a place of prominence. No doubt Dean thought of them as a fond courting memento.
Sam didn’t even have to close his eyes to remember just what they’d looked like on Dean. His dick had bulged out the tiny satin triangle in an obscene way, and while Sam had been irritated and amused at the time, he can admit that it was sort of sexy in retrospect.
But retrospect also reminded him that Dean had originally purchased the lingerie for him. The panties had a matching silk robe because Dean had some sort of thing for robes, but Sam wasn’t concerned about a robe. Robes were pretty damned androgynous. They were hardly exciting.
Panties though? That was naughty and taboo. Not that having gay incest sex with your brother that resulted in getting pregnant with his dragon baby wasn’t taboo. That was worlds of taboo beyond a little sexy cross-dressing. But that was also old, old news.
That and it looked like the panties had enough stretch in them to fit over his newly fat ass. Clothes that fit were a big plus in Sam’s life at the moment. Baby Dean was huge and using his baby dragon powers to make Sam crave pie and burgers. He knew it was his child’s fault. Those cravings were far too specific to be coming from Sam’s genes.
“Sammy,” Dean gasped from the doorway, “warn a guy if you intend on giving him a spontaneous boner. I could’ve fainted.”
Flushing deep red, Sam spun around to face his brother, crumpling the tiny panties in his hand to shield them from view. “I wasn’t doing anything!” he protested like the thirteen-year-old he hadn’t been for years.
“Really?” Dean asked with a naughty grin. “Looks to me like you were sizing up what those would look like on you. I wouldn’t mind helping you find that out.”
Sam laughed and shook his head. “You’re an incorrigible pervert.”
“I’ve got a mate all knocked up with my baby and a comfy lair. Being perverted is my reward,” Dean said as he crept closer.
“You were a pervert years before I went to Stanford,” Sam reminded him.
Dean grinned unrepentantly, “Yeah, but now I’ve got somebody to share it with. Come on Sammy, panties are awesome. Please?”
Sam huffed and shoved his boxers off. “I’m going to regret this,” he muttered.
“That’s what you thought about sleeping with me. Look how great that turned out,” Dean retorted, eyes avidly glued to Sam’s legs. “Do you need to sit down for that?”
“I’m not that pregnant yet,” Sam grumbled as he stepped into the leg holes on the tiny scrap of fabric and started tugging it upwards.
“Uh-huh,” Dean replied, his voice distinctly dreamy.
“Dude, you seriously get off on this, don’t you?” Sam asked, embarrassed but oddly proud.
“You have no idea. I’ll tell you about it sometime when my dick isn’t trying to poke a hole through my jeans,” Dean admitted.
“I’d better get pie for this,” Sam threatened as he waddled over to grab the robe off the chair he’d left it draped over.
“I never forget the pie,” Dean promised, “especially not when my baby needs it.”
“And what about me?” Sam asked.
“I’ll make you all the salads you want. Now come over here and show your baby daddy just what a hot piece of ass he landed,” Dean growled.
“Pervert and a jerk,” Sam asserted as he waddled back.
“Yeah, yeah. I love you too.”